chapter 11.2

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting golden hues upon the towering walls of The Wall, Alcard made his way toward Oldman's chamber. His footsteps echoed along the cold stone corridors, each step carrying him closer to a conversation he already suspected would be more trouble than it was worth. The heavy wooden door before him had borne witness to countless crucial decisions, and tonight, it would add yet another chapter to the burdens carried by the fortress.

With a firm, deliberate knock, he pushed the door open, stepping inside to find Oldman seated behind his massive desk, surrounded by maps and documents, their edges curled from years of use. The room was dimly lit, the faint flicker of a dying candle casting shadows across Oldman's weathered face. In his hands, an officially sealed letter from the Kingdom of Edenvila lay unfolded, its contents fresh in his mind.

Without any preamble, Oldman looked up and spoke. "I have a new task for you, Alcard. An escort mission."

Alcard's brow furrowed, his expression twisting in skepticism as he crossed his arms. "An escort?" His voice carried a sharp edge of disbelief. "Is this some kind of joke, Oldman?" The sheer absurdity of the request made his irritation evident.

Oldman placed the letter on the table, his gaze unwavering. "This is no joke. The request was made specifically for you. You are to escort someone back to Edenvila."

Alcard's expression darkened, his arms still crossed as he let out a slow exhale. "Alone?" he questioned, the doubt heavy in his voice. "I'm a monster hunter, not a noble's bodyguard. Why me? And why would they even request The Wall for something like this?"

Oldman leaned back slightly, exhaling as if the same questions had haunted him since the letter arrived. "Trust me, I wondered the same thing." He tapped a finger on the parchment. "But the payment, Alcard. It's massive. Enough to sustain us for months without worrying about supplies or weapons."

Alcard grimaced, his mind torn between pragmatism and suspicion. Resources were always a concern, but this mission—this request—felt wrong. "Who sent it?" he finally asked, his tone sharpening.

Oldman picked up the letter again, reading aloud in an even voice. "Lady Arwen Delareu of the Kingdom of Edenvila."

The name struck Alcard into silence, his eyes narrowing slightly. Edenvila was no ordinary kingdom—it was a closed, secretive land, where court intrigue often ran deeper than blood. For a noble from such a place to request the aid of outcasts? That was far from normal.

"Lady Arwen?" he repeated, as if testing the name on his tongue. "A noble from Edenvila is asking outcasts for protection? That doesn't make sense. Why aren't they using their own knights?"

Oldman shrugged slightly, showing that he, too, was baffled. "No explanation was given. The letter only states one directive—escort Lady Arwen safely to Edenvila. Nothing more, nothing less."

Alcard's thoughts churned, his gut instinct already warning him. Edenvila was not to be trusted. Even worse, The Wall had its history with them.

His voice dropped to a lower, grimmer register. "Boreas and Edda never returned from Edenvila, Oldman." His eyes locked onto the older man's. "I don't believe they died in those ruins. The nobles of Edenvila could have just as easily killed them—or sacrificed them in that expedition."

Oldman held his gaze, his expression unreadable, but the silence between them spoke volumes. He knew exactly what Alcard was implying.

Finally, he sighed, his voice measured but cautious. "The last reports we received said the mission was a complete failure. No one made it out of the ruins—except for two noble retainers who had been stationed at the entrance for supply management." The statement was delivered plainly, but there was an unspoken weight behind it.

Alcard clicked his tongue, his expression darkening. "And now, they send a request asking me to escort one of their nobles?" His fingers tightened into a subtle fist. "I don't like this, Oldman. If this is a trap, don't expect me to hold back."

A hint of amusement ghosted across Oldman's features, but it was a humorless smirk, laced with understanding rather than satisfaction. "I know you don't like this kind of work, Alcard." He leaned forward slightly, his tone carrying a quiet warning. "But listen—if they betray us, they should expect the wrath of The Wall. Edenvila is smart enough to know that much."

Alcard let out a slow, measured breath, his mind weighing the risks against the reward. He knew refusing this mission wasn't an option. If he declined, someone else would be sent in his place—and they might not survive the ordeal.

"Fine," he said at last, though his voice still carried heavy reluctance. "I'll escort this noble. But hear me, Oldman—if I find even the slightest sign of treachery, I won't hesitate to act."

Oldman watched him for a moment before handing over the letter, a knowing glint in his eyes. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you." He gave Alcard's shoulder a light pat, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "Be careful. The world of nobility is often more dangerous than the monsters of the south."

Alcard only gave a small huff, neither in agreement nor dismissal, before grasping the letter and turning toward the door.

As he stepped out into the dimly lit corridor, his mind was already racing with unanswered questions.

Who exactly was Lady Arwen, and why did she need an Outcast's protection?

As he strode down the hall, the last light of sunset faded from the sky, swallowed by the encroaching night.

In the distance, the cold wind whispered, carrying an eerie stillness—as if warning him that this journey would not be as simple as the words written on that letter.

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